


A Princess' Throne

by GrendelGrowls



Series: Sylvia & Catherine [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Dom/sub, Dominance, F/F, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mommy Issues, Mommy Kink, Nicknames, Praise Kink, Sex, Sexual Content, Teasing, Useless Lesbians, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:42:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26682388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrendelGrowls/pseuds/GrendelGrowls
Summary: Sylvia returns from work yet again, only to find a trail of candles leading into her wife's workshop. Evidently, the inventor has been waiting for her to get home...
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Original Character(s), Original Female Character & Original Female Character, Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Sylvia & Catherine [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923901
Comments: 3
Kudos: 27





	A Princess' Throne

**Author's Note:**

> This was mostly written to try and break a huge, thick writer's block that came over me recently. It may not be the BEST thing I've written, and might have several obvious problems, but I really wanted to produce something after two weeks of failing to finish even a handful of paragraphs.
> 
> I'll write more Cath and Sylv smut in the future, far better than this piece. Consider it a test, more than a complete work.

If there was one thing that Sylvia often struggled with, it was her wife's experimental nature.

It wasn't just about the spare parts that Catherine would leave scattered over their kitchen floor, nor was it the bizarre meals that she would sometimes have prepared for the gravekeeper when she got home. No, she _liked_ the fact that her wife could latch onto an idea and focus it down until she had the result she wanted - it was a quality that many people lacked these days. None of that was a problem to her, at least not in the overall scheme of their ten-year marriage.

The real problem, if it could be called a 'problem' at all, was the fact that this experimentation left nothing off-limits. For every occasion where Catherine could turn inwards and waste a few hours on a new invention, there would be another where the desire to try something new required Sylvia to take part too. Boundaries had been set, but it was difficult to push a concept out of the mechanic's inquisitive mind once it took root.

In simple terms, this meant that Catherine's kinky ideas and interesting bedroom twists never stopped coming. If there was a certain toy or device they needed, she _would_ build it, and when a particular item of clothing was required for the concept to work, it _would_ somehow end up being weaved together by the end of the night. She was somehow both the most efficient and least productive human being on the planet, with her creativity mainly controlled by the current level of moisture in her underwear. Not that Sylvia had any reason to complain, being the way that she was.

After a long shift of tending to the dead - working two hours extra to handle the recent incidents that she wasn't privy to - the gravekeeper finally managed to reach her own front door and gently push it open, longing for the warm air of their home. She didn't know if Catherine would have handled dinner yet, but if not, there was plenty of time to make something while her wife continued with her mechanical hobbies. As far as she could tell, the counters to the left of the door were free of food and untouched, so that was probably the case.

Shutting the door and closing the latch from the inside, she hung her bag on the hook against the wall and took a second look around. No sign of Catherine, not even the token empty mugs or places that she often left behind when she was in a hurry. This had happened quite a few times: usually, her wife was so obsessed with a project that she kept herself almost completely contained to the workshop at the rear of their home, taking her meals with her.

"Love?" Sylvia approached the heavy door that isolated the workshop and the house's living space, but got no response. "Love, are you still awake? Have you eaten yet?"

Nothing. While she wasn't one to be concerned the gravekeeper preferred to leave the silence behind when she left the catacombs. Gripping the handle and pushing it open, she let the cold air of the mechanic's workspace flow into the room, balanced out by the warmth of their heated living room to her side.

"Cath?"

Beyond the threshold was darkness, lit by several-dozen candles that each appeared to be different in size and width. The lights had been turned off at the wall and the small shutters that acted as windows were closed, each one only letting in a small trace of the evening sunlight. It took Sylvia a moment to think over what she was seeing, but her train of thought came to a grinding halt as she heard the Catherine’s whispered voice from the other side of the room.

"Over here..."

"Cath, what's going on?"

The only reply was a short chuckle, high-pitched enough to almost be considered a giggle. Although wary, Sylvia knew that she could handle any bizarre happenings that might have been going on, and it was highly likely that her wife was just having a bit of fun. Moving out into the darkness and using the flickering candles as a way to guide herself past the fully-stocked scrap shelves, she felt her dress gently brush the air aside, making some of the flames dim as she passed. As much as she wanted to reach out and use her hand to find the walls, she knew that it would probably just lead to her knocking something over.

"I _really_ _can't see_ , love." As the trail of candles began to come to an end, the clusters of three or four eventually turned into isolated, melting piles of wax. If she had counted her steps correctly, this was probably about halfway into the room. "I don't want to break any of your machines by accident."

"Keep going."

There was definitely a hint of playful teasing in the way that Catherine had said those two words, but more importantly, it revealed her rough location. She was on top of something, probably around two feet in the air. A box, perhaps. "What am I supposed to be going _to_?" Again, the only reply was a gentle laugh, which trailed off in a manner that made her spine briefly tingle.

A short pause hung in the air, silenced by a soft click at the lights in the room slowly hummed back to life and burst into action. Sylvia was forced to wince at the sudden change, her eyes unable to see anything but the glow coming from all around her. Digging her face into her elbow, she gave them a second to relax, then blinked a few times to aid them in adjusting. By the time her arm lowered, she was relatively sure that she had prepared herself for whatever surprise was lying in wait. With Catherine, anything was possible.

She was wrong.

Catherine sat on a metal chair, her elbows against the armrests and her hands steepled against one another. Not only was she completely devoid of her clothing - something that Sylvia was surprisingly used to by now - but the chair itself was far from a normal. While it appeared to be a solid lump of metal at first, she quickly noticed the various cables and struts that moved out from the back, each of which hung in the air like the stingers of a dozen scorpions. The gravekeeper's heart stopped beating for a moment when her brain managed to process what she was seeing.

Those arms were taken from her last creation. This was another sex machine, but this time, Catherine had apparently decided to make herself part of it. There was no physical connection, nothing linking her to the frame around her, but her grin made obvious that she didn't intend to move from the throne she had built.

After a second or two of stunned silence, Sylvia composed herself enough to react properly. "You didn't..."

"Well, you burnt out the last one." Leaning back on the cushioned yet very solid-looking throne, she chuckled again, banging her fist on the metal. "I'm not sure if that says more about you than it does about me."

Taking a few steps closer to inspect the mechanical monstrosity in front of her, the gravekeeper once again tried to piece together how it was supposed to work. Her experience with the last multi-armed sex-tool that her wife had produced made it a little bit easier, but even still, the rod-like arms didn't seem the same as they used to be. It seemed like only some of them were fitted with proper attachments, mainly the restraints from the last model and a handful of assorted sex toys. The rest were seemingly either unused or only partially-complete, as if Catherine hadn't had enough time to actually finish her project.

She still didn't understand why her wife had decided to sit inside the machine, though. The last one had been built to work on the person inside it, but this wasn't quite the same in terms of design. "What does _this one_ do?"

Catherine's smile turned into a smirk as she leant back, shifting her rear forward so that she could recline properly against the backrest. Her left hand patted at her upper thigh, and her right tapped against the throne's arm. "Come and sit on Mommy's lap, then you can find out."

While it was in Sylvia's nature to try and be the more reasonable of the two, she couldn't deny how tempting this already seemed. Clearly, her wife had put effort into setting up this scenario, and being able to stare at her fully-exposed body certainly didn't hurt. Moving closer to the machine, she took the time to let her eyes feed on the sight of the other woman's form.

Just as she was about to pass the tips of some of the fully-extended arms, Catherine raised one hand, waving it almost dismissively. "Hold on. Get that dress off."

"Right now?" Glancing down, she took a look at the clothing in question.

"Unless you want it torn off your body. It's your choice, really."

The mechanic's hand reached over to the armrest and tapped a few odd buttons built into the side, causing one of the restraints to move towards Sylvia's body. Taking the hint, she quickly reached around to undo the few connectors holding her dress in place, allowing it to gently slide off her body and collapse in a pile around her legs. Underneath was her underwear, a simple black-coloured set that didn't see much sun, just like the body beneath it. "There".

With a knowing tilt of the head, Catherine placed her hands apart on the arm rests, and Sylvia continued her timid approach. Her heart was pounding in her chest, just like it always did when her wife decided to make things intimate, but that was more of a benefit than a drawback. As soon as she was within arm's reach of the metal throne itself, Sylvia did as she had been told and sat on the other woman's lap. Her cheeks were burning, and the embarrassed flush that worked its way across her face only intensified as Catherine's hand brushed against her shoulder blades.

"Good girl." Once again, she was clearly enjoying herself, but that didn't make the shivers running through Sylvia's spine any less real. "Make sure you're comfortable."

There was a part of the gravekeeper's mind that routinely shut down every time her wife got in a state like this. They had both discussed their interactions many times, and were intimately aware of each other's limits and preferences - with nothing to worry about, she was able to take every touch at face value. Everything that Catherine offered her was pure, unfiltered and entirely honest lust, nothing more and nothing less. Of course, it worked both ways.

Catherine's hands continued to explore her back, brushing against the goosebumps that bristled across her skin in the cold air. "You're beautiful, princess. I don't tell you that often enough." A small huff of amusement capped off her words, and Sylvia felt the warm breath tingle against her body.

Unsure if this was a test of some kind, the gravekeeper went for a simple yet submissive response. "Of course you do, Mommy..."

"No, I don't. I'll tell you that you look nice, or that you're sexy, but that's not the same thing." One of her arms wrapped around Sylvia's waist, as if trying to tug her closer. "You're Mommy's beautiful princess, and you deserve to know that."

Before she was able to formulate any kind of response, she felt Catherine's warm breaths on the surface of her neck, each one feeling like a burst of fire in the chilly air around them. Her wife's hand began a slow descent from her waist to her inner thighs gently stroking the prickling skin that normally remained hidden beneath her dress.

That palm wasn't much, not compared to the other things that her wife was capable of, but that didn't make it any less intimidating. Those long, slender fingers were hardly just for show, and even having them _near_ the lower half of her body could be enough to make Sylvia's mind wander. This, however, was far more direct: time ticked by agonizingly slowly as Catherine's hand slowly came to rest between her legs, settling just on top of her lower lips.

With a single shaky breath, the gravekeeper stuttered out a few meaningless noises before finally managing to settle on something worth saying. "Please don't hold back."

"And what if I _want_ to, princess? You'll get _stroppy_ with me?" As she finished the second sentence, one of her fingers began to idly toy with the sensitive skin beneath it, rubbing back and forth with absolutely no haste. "You'll _whine_ about it?"

Stifling a short groan of both arousal and restlessness, Sylvia gently shook her head from side to side. "Well, I-"

Another finger joined the first, matching the same painfully slow teasing that the first has begun. "You're too much of a good girl to do anything like that, unless it's begging for Mommy's touch. You're so _needy_ , princess."

Leaning back so that her shoulder blades dissolved into Catherine's body heat, Sylvia sighed, feeling a twinge of frustration at the motions going on below her waist. Her body wanted direct, blunt action and satisfaction, but the moment that her wife pulled out the 'Mommy card', her unfulfilled needs were the part of the point. Her Mommy followed no schedule but her own.

With her free hand, Catherine once again tapped at a few of the buttons on the throne's armrest, drawing some of the mechanical limbs closer. All of them converged on the pair of women, forming a barrier around them. A cocoon, almost. They interlocked and folded together, as if trapping her inside with her wife.

At the same moment, Catherine decided to make her entrance. A single, slim finger pushed its way inside Sylvia, curling upon entry in a successful attempt to draw more mewls out of her lungs. It was a familiar feeling, but that didn't make it easy to handle, and her lower body twitched for a moment in response to the welcome intrusion. 

"You've got nothing to be ashamed of here, princess." As the mechanic spoke, she gently worked her magic with her finger, putting pressure on whatever weak points she could find as she refused to slow down even for a moment. "Mommy is very proud of you."

"F-For what...?"

A second finger slipped jointed the first, and Sylvia trailed off into a drawn-out whine of surprised pleasure. Leaning back against her wife, she lost track of herself for a moment, feeling herself turn numb as her body finally caught up to where her brain was going. The obvious wetness between her legs no longer had underwear to contain it, turning part of the throne's seating slick beneath her.

Once again exploring her inside without a care in the world, Catherine continued to use her two fingers as if they were a physical tool, seeking to undo Sylvia from within. Every so often, she would find a spot that made the gravekeeper squeak in surprise or grunt in pleasure, and focus her efforts in that one location for as long as possible. Every gentle probe or application of pressure made it harder to resist the following one, and the claustrophobic nature of this metal cocoon that her wife had created meant that her own movements were much more restricted.

Catherine, of course, wanted this. The inventor would change the pattern and speed of her dancing fingers whenever the grunts and groans stopped, keeping Sylvia off-balanced every single time. Biting down on her lip had turned into a useless attempt at staying quiet, and the prospect of her wife escalating things even further was seeming more and more likely with every passing moment.

After another heavy gasp to bring in some much-needed air, Sylvia tried to speak to her wife, struggling with every word. 

"Mommy... I don't... think..." She wasn't able to finish before the rapid pace of her wife's finger movements almost doubled, forcing her to cry out and lean forward in a separate attempt to contain herself. The hot breaths on her neck had become equally frequent, occasionally interspersed with small kisses just below her shoulder that carried an electrifying energy to them.

"Don't think what, princess?"

"I don't... ah... think that... you're trying hard enough..." lost for words and essentially letting herself speak on impulse, Sylvia's mildly impudent side started to surface, and she finished her sentence before she could consider that it might be a bad idea.

The hand movements paused. Catherine's breaths stalled. For a second, it felt like she had just ruined the mood.

And then, she heard that snarl. A forced but no less intimidating snarl with a small hint of delight behind it, the same type that an animal would make when they spotted a toy worth tearing to shreds.

"You really think that, princess?"

"Well, I... I wasn't..."

With a very hushed chuckle, Sylvia felt her wife's lips move to just behind her ear, almost within nibbling distance. "Then I suppose I'll have to try harder to satisfy a brat like you, won't I, missy?"

The gravekeeper felt a sudden spike of adrenaline as her wife's hand raised up and curled around her neck, putting pressure on her airways and forcing her to breathe with more urgency. The fingers that remained inside her continued with their work, speeding up even more than they had earlier and targeted the spots that Catherine _knew_ the smaller woman was most sensitive towards. As the slim fingers tightened ever so slightly, she felt her heart beat faster and her eyes widen involuntarily. Between gasps for air, she managed to call out to her Mommy - not in fear or concern, but in genuine pleasure.

"You can be a very _bad_ girl at times, can't you? You like to push back against Mommy and make her get brutal with you, and we both know why." Catherine continued to plant kisses on her back between each sentence, occasionally tapping the tips of her fingers against Sylvia's skin as her other hand continued the relentless motions between her legs. "You're a glutton for being turned into Mommy's beautiful, obedient princess every time you act up. Aren't you, _missy_?"

Unable to properly reply given the sudden wave of warm, all-consuming desire that had struck her mind, the gravekeeper simply moaned, letting it trail off into a low whimper as her brain processed how true that statement was. To a third party, she looked like a fairly confident and independent woman with very little patience for games, but that all fell apart when her Mommy was taking care of her. Rather than struggle to speak, she responded with a pathetic nod, submitting to her own cravings for more of the same.

In a way, she was almost ashamed of the fact that she was getting this much pleasure from such a simple interaction. Catherine was a genius, a woman who could create all sorts of amazing machines with dozens of erotic uses and hidden features. Even so, the fuzzy white fog that built up in her brain was starting to become a cocktail of different feelings and emotions, each one nudging her further away from a reasonable level of self-control.

Part of her wanted to beg for more than just her wife's fingers, even as she felt her lungs continue to strain for air and her forehead sweat from exertion. In any other instance, her desire to satisfy herself and reach a pleasure high would have taken over. With Catherine's arm around her throat, though, that was far from the case. She was always off guard, constantly having to swallow her own gratified cries and grunts just to keep a clear head. 

Sylvia's body was frantically trying to adjust to the different movements inside her, only to be countered by her Mommy's careful manipulation of the situation. As soon as she had become used to the curled fingers, they would straighten up again and attack a different patch of her inner skin, like an expert swordswoman pushing past an opponent's defences. Her thoughts had changed, too: instead of the normal analytical view of the world, her brain was swamped with nonsense, occasionally penetrated by phrases like _please Mommy_ or _I can't take it_. Trying to actually make those words into speech was beyond her now, with each attempt devolving into carnal noises that would make even the most perverted bystander blush.

Catherine's inquisitive fingers gradually slowed, and the other hand around Sylvia's neck tightened again, forcing her to choke softly at the lack of fresh air entering her body. With another skin-tingling chuckle, the inventor pushed their bodies together, with her chest up against the gravekeeper's back. "It's not enough for you, is it, missy?"

There were multiple conflicting responses in Sylvia's thoughts. Her self-preservation instinct didn't know what to make of the situation, and the sudden lack of intense movement in her lower half was making some of her muscles feel almost disappointingly still. Unable to properly reply, she instead had to gag against the hand closing her windpipe, shocked at how loud her heartbeat had become in her ears.

Between the limited oxygen flow and the heightened sensitivity of her lower half, it almost felt like she might explode. Sylvia glanced at her wife's slick and wet fingers, silently begging them to re-enter her body so that she could reach the ending she was desperate for. Each strained pant that left her mouth felt more difficult than the last, and a small part of her brain was starting to wonder if Catherine planned to let go at all. Pushing through the bottomless mix of emotions and physical sensations pooling in her brain, she managed to gather enough air for a single word. It felt like she was using up her last breath.

"Mommy..."

The hand around her neck relaxed, and the fingers returned to their work, this time with much more purpose in how they moved. Catherine had begun to mumble to herself, letting certain curse words or quiet expressions of pleasure hang in the air. Although Sylvia was in no state to try and pick out what her wife was saying, a few phrases stood out to her, even with her mind clouded and fuzzy. _Good girl. Fucking beautiful. Perfect. Princess._

Quite soon, though, even that began to fade away as a passion-filled heat overtook every nerve in her body, turning the outside world into a mushy backdrop. Even with her throat free to breathe as it would normally, she was at a combination of two different heights, and had reached a point where the end result was inevitable. The pattern of movements inside her had broken apart, turning into a random mess that pushed at her body's weakest points and least protected elements while she began to dissolve from the toes upwards. Everything was delayed, out of sync, like her brain couldn't accurately match itself to the speed of normal time anymore.

_"P-Please, Cath, I..."_

Catherine's hand tightened around her neck like before, once again stifling her breaths in an instant.

"Come for your Mommy, princess."

It was a simple command, but an effective one. The exact moment that her wife's voice trailed off, Sylvia found her legs muscles starting to spasm, sending her legs into shudders and her inner walls into a series of unusual movements. She wished that she could kiss the other woman, or properly embrace her, but she had to settle for leaning back against Catherine's chest and groaning as she rapidly failed to contain herself. A final, almost never-ending burst of heat rocked through her body, bathing her in a confusing muddle of relief and excitement. Every twitch only made it last longer, returning the motion tenfold inside her.

A full minute passed before Sylvia was even able to speak. Her muscles clenched and loosened in quick succession, each one acting like it was trying to use up a pool of adrenaline. Each time her mouth opened to make words, simple sounds came out, all of which were high-pitched and dripping with deep-rooted satisfaction. Eventually, once the twitches stopped and her pulse was able to drop to a slightly less extreme rate, the gravekeeper collapsed backwards into her wife's arms, tired and thoroughly explored. 

Neither of them spoke. While Catherine didn't seem to have experienced the same climax as her - understandable, given that it had been a one-way session - there was still a hint of exhaustion in the mechanic's breathing cycle. Even if she had been up for something else, Sylvia's body ached and her brain wanted to turn off for a while, so it would need to wait until later. Much later.

Once again, her brain tried to fill itself with concerned thoughts about her performance, or about whether she had been satisfying for her partner. Before she could let the doubt get to her, a gentle kiss on the back of her head reinforced the positive side of things.

Good or bad, she was Mommy's princess. There would always be other chances to do better.


End file.
